Yesterday at the temple, there was an alms-giving ceremony. Many of us came, hundreds of people. The reason why Luang Por organized this alms-giving is so that we don’t forget. It’s a Buddhist tradition, a good tradition. Over time, it can gradually erode, and sometimes it can deviate.
Alms-giving on the Devorohana day (the day of the Buddha’s descent from Tavatimsa heaven) serves to remind us of the Buddha’s kindness. He has great compassion that encompasses the three realms. If we, as monks of this era, can follow his example, it means having compassion for both the rich and the poor equally.
Merit is another name for happiness
Therefore, Buddhists have broad minds. We don’t focus solely on the rich; we also care about the poor. People who come to learn Dhamma from Luang Por, I commend them. Nowadays, when I go out, outside the temple, I stop at gas stations for bathroom or a meal, and I meet ordinary people who come to see me and report on their practice. When I see this, I’m delighted that Dhamma has reached the common people. I don’t care much about the rich; they’re already comfortable. The lower class is more pitiful. They struggle to make a living day by day. If they can receive Dhamma, their lives will be peaceful and happy. Seeing this, I commend them.
Tomorrow is the day for Kathina. An easy way to remember is that at this temple, we follow the principle that the first Sunday after the End of Buddhist Lent Day is Kathina day. So if the End of Buddhist Lent Day is on a Saturday, the next day is Kathina. It’s easy to remember, no need to think too much, no need to ask what day it is this year. People often ask. Remember this principle.
Here, Kathina is not about collecting money. Since the temple was founded, we’ve never distributed Kathina envelopes or any other fundraising envelops.
So we let people come and make merit and learn the traditions of Buddhism. Many people still have weak spiritual faculties. When they come to make merit and see many people, they feel happy. For instance, many people came to offer alms yesterday and they were all joyful. It’s like there’s a sense of merit spreading widely. Being in such an atmosphere is joyful. Merit is the name of happiness. So, coming to Kathina here should also bring happiness. Don’t worry about us collecting money. We never take any. If you want to do it, do it; if you don’t, it’s okay. Everyone is equal.
There’s another thing I wanted to tell you. I initially planned to keep it quiet, but I’ve decided to announce it now. This January, we’re having an old boundary stone removing ceremony. This will help people decide whether or not to attend.
In this coming January, there will be an old boundary stone removing ceremony, which has nothing to do with lay people. It’s not like boundary stone burial ceremony, where you’re welcome to come if you want. This boundary stone removing ceremony requires hundreds of monks. The temple will be packed just with monks. We’ll need to provide food, seating, and even bathrooms for all these monks. So, it’s not a good time for lay people to be here.
Even if you did come, you wouldn’t see me anyway. I’ll be busy welcoming the monks as they arrive from different places. And there won’t be any sermons or talks. So, no seeing me, no food. Usually, when you come, there’s food, or you bring your own to offer the monks. But this time, we can’t accept it. Our team won’t be able to handle opening all those food packages. We’ve got hundreds of monks to look after.
So, if you hear about the boundary stone removing ceremony, just anumodana (rejoice in the good deeds of others). Stay home. Isn’t it strange? Other places might encourage people to come, but here, I’m telling you not to. This isn’t for lay people. It’s a monastic affair.
A lot of other temples have fundraising goals for their kathina ceremonies, but we don’t do that. Our temple has never asked for donations. Look at our Ubosot (ordination hall). We’ve been working on it for 13-14 years, little by little. We’ve never had to ask anyone for money. People who want to make merit do so on their own. They come and help. Now, it’s more than 90% finished. The only remaining work is the wall paintings on the interior, opposite to the main Buddha image.
If you want to come sit and meditate on the upper balcony of the temple, you can. Just don’t make a mess, and don’t lie down. There are seating there. Don’t lie down. It’s unsightly. If you want to sit and meditate, that’s fine. But don’t go inside yet. Wait until we’ve finished the ceremony.
I don’t want some of you getting your naughty hands touching the Buddha images or the base of the main image. It’s all artwork. It’s easy to damage. And the wall paintings are expensive, costing millions. We hired skilled artists to do them. So, please don’t add anything, don’t sign your name, don’t draw hearts with arrows. Just look. Don’t touch. If you want to do street art, go do it somewhere else.
The essence of Buddhism
The goal of studying Dhamma is to end suffering. This is the ultimate aim. In this world, not many people truly desire liberation from suffering. Most people desire happiness, wealth, and great riches. That’s why Buddhism has always been a religion for a minority, not a majority. This has been the case since the time of the Buddha.
Venerable Sāriputta and Venerable Moggallāna, two of the Buddha’s foremost disciples, once had another teacher named Sañjaya. Before encountering the Buddha, they were students of Sañjaya. When Sāriputta met Venerable Assaji and heard the Buddha’s teachings, he attained the first stage of enlightenment (sotāpanna) and told Moggallāna. Moggallāna also attained the same stage. They then went to their teacher Sañjaya to inform him of their decision to leave his teaching and follow the Buddha. They invited Sañjaya to join them, as they saw that the teachings of teacher Sañjaya didn’t truly lead to the cessation of suffering. They were a group of debaters, wandering ascetics (paribbājakā), similar to the Greeks during the time of Plato and Socrates – around 3,000 years ago. These debaters sought knowledge through arguments.
Sāriputta and Moggallāna had already attained the first stage of enlightenment (sotāpanna). They realized the futility of endless debates. When you win, you’re happy. When you lose, you’re sad. Winning or losing arguments brought no lasting satisfaction and no real benefit. They invited their teacher to join them in seeing the Buddha.
Sañjaya, however, declined. As a renowned teacher, he saw no reason to study under someone else. His own school was already large and prestigious. When Moggallāna and Sāriputta persisted, Sañjaya asked them, “In this world, are there more fools or wise people?” Both answered truthfully, “There are more fools than wise people.”Sañjaya then replied, “In that case, you go. The few wise people will follow the ascetic Gotama, while the many fools will come to me.”
Fool people would not come empty-handed. They would bring him wealth and offerings. The more fool people are, the more they pay. This has been the case since ancient times.
True Buddhism is a religion for the few who genuinely seek liberation from suffering. Other teachings promise worldly happiness, such as wealth. Notice that teachings emphasizing wealth tend to attract larger audiences, while those focused solely on meditation typically have much smaller followings.
Therefore, we must come to study, because now that we’ve encountered Buddhism, we shouldn’t stop at worldly pleasures. Worldly pleasures are fleeting; they’re temporary happiness. And they hide a dangerous poison. That poison is attachment to the world. Being attached to the world gives us a little bit of happiness, but we become slaves to that happiness. We can’t attain liberation from the world. Liberation, or ‘lokuttara’ (beyond the world), means transcendence. If we have the opportunity, let’s study the true Dhamma. As for how others live, that’s normal.
The journey through samsara (the cycle of birth and death) is long, countless lifetimes. Those with weak spiritual faculties seek out pleasure and get caught up in it. Those pleasures are all laced with poison; they’re filled with disappointment and sorrow later on. For example, seeking fame and reputation. Fame and reputation are worldly things, associated with praise and criticism. So, just as quickly as one gains fame, one can lose it. In one era, someone might be disgraced; in another, they become famous.
Look at the example of the Empress Wu Zetian in China. She was heavily criticized. She was a Buddhist, an empress. Those who believed in other doctrines, I won’t name them, opposed her. First of all, a woman ruling was considered bad. They made up all sorts of slanderous stories, and people believed them. They criticized Wu Zetian. But in modern times, people praise her. They say she was a great woman who revolutionized women’s rights, giving them equality with men. Isn’t that good? It’s good, but the definition of ‘good’ varies from era to era.
So, as for praise and criticism, don’t get too attached to them. It’s all meaningless. People’s praise is temporary, and their criticism is also temporary. The important thing is that we do good. How others perceive us is their business. We can’t control that. A wicked person will call a wise person evil, and they’ll think their fellow wicked people are good. What can we expect from the world? Or hoping to become rich? Some temples emphasize making merit to become wealthy. They do become wealthy, i.e., the temples become wealthy, not the ordinary people who donate. They won’t become wealthy. They lack the wisdom to make a living.
If we want to learn the essence of Buddhism, we must first have a clear goal. Buddhism answers the question of how to end suffering. Suffering is the world itself. The world is nothing more than the forms and formlessness.
If you do not yet see suffering, you will not let go
We are attached to the world because we are caught up in these forms and formlessness. Most people are attached to material forms, meaning they crave sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and touch that are pleasurable. Most people are addicted to sensuality. Very few people can break free from sensuality.
Those who have freed themselves from sensuality fall into two categories: those who have attained Jhana (absorption) and those who have entered the non-returner path. Why can those who attain Jhana break free from sensuality? Because when the mind reaches the tranquility of Jhana, it realizes that sensuality is like a burning fire. It’s a feverish kind of pleasure. For example, when we experience strong sexual desire, is our mind calm or is it agitated and feverish? Just observe when you have sexual desire. So, sensuality is a burning pleasure, like a fire. What are the objects for sensuality? Forms, sounds, smells, tastes, and touch. These are called sense objects, and they are what all beings crave.
Sense objects are the devil’s tools to trap us in a realm and prevent us from escaping suffering and transcending mundane realms. Most people seek sensuality. They crave wealth so they can see beautiful sights, hear beautiful sounds, smell beautiful odors, taste delicious food, and experience pleasant sensations. They don’t know about happiness that transcends sensuality. If we practice meditation or our minds experience peace and tranquility, we will find that tranquility brings more happiness than sensuality. As the Buddha taught, ‘No other kind of happiness is greater than peace.’
Now, peace comes in many levels. The peace experienced within jhana. When your mind enters a state of Appanā Samādhi (full absorption), it is quite delightful. It’s like your whole being is bathed in a cool, refreshing sensation. You feel a deep sense of happiness.
From this state, you can clearly see that sensual pleasures are impure. They’re like fire, not a good thing. To truly understand the harmful nature of these pleasures, you have to break free from the sensual realm. When you do, through the power of jhana, you’ll see that these pleasures aren’t as wonderful as they seem. They’re actually harmful, causing restlessness and dissatisfaction.
Therefore, as monks, we should set our goal correctly. We’ve ordained to put an end to suffering. If we lose sight of this goal, we might get sidetracked by seeking fame, offerings, or the admiration of others. We forget why we’re here. I often remind them that they shouldn’t waste their robes or the food offered by lay people. Our goal is to end suffering. If you can do it in this very lifetime, that’s good. If not, we should accumulate the necessary qualities so that in future lives, it will be easier to attain liberation.
Those who have attained enlightenment didn’t do so in just one lifetime. They’ve been cultivating these qualities for countless lifetimes. For example, Bahiya. During the time of the earlier Buddha, Kassapa Buddha, he practiced until his death without attaining enlightenment. He gave his life in pursuit of dhamma. But when he met the Buddha in this lifetime, with his fully accumulated spiritual faculties, he was able to attain arahantship after hearing just a few words of the Dhamma.
“Look, Bahiya. When the seen is merely the seen, when the heard is merely the heard, when the cognized is merely the cognized, then there is no ‘you’. When there is no ‘you’ in the past, in the future, nor in the present, then, that’s the end of suffering.” Through hearing this brief explanation of the dhamma, Bahiya attained Arahantship.
Just like Upatissa (Venerable Sāriputta) and Kolita (Venerable Mahā Moggallāna), when they heard Venerable Assaji’s teaching, “Whatever has a cause, the Tathagata (Buddha) has explained its cause, and its cessation. This is what the Buddha teaches,” they attained stream-entry. Assaji was so wise, yet he was humble. He said he just ordained and knew very little. But his words encompassed the Four Noble Truths.
“Whatever has a cause.” What does arise from a cause? Suffering arises from a cause. Beside suffering, nothing arises. Beside suffering, nothing exists. Beside suffering, nothing ceases. Dhamma (phenomena) that arise from a cause are referred to as ‘saṅkhata dhamma’ and all are suffering (dukkha). The Buddha explained that the cause of suffering (samudaya) is craving (Taṇhā). The Buddha further taught us how to let go of craving. If we remove the cause (samudaya), the effect, which is suffering, ceases. So, he taught us to remove the cause. It’s all about cause and effect.
So, upon hearing a brief dhamma, they understood ‘whatever arising from cause, when the cause ceases, it ceases, if the cause arises, it arises. Therefore, everything is conditioned by its cause.’
There are six causes: three wholesome and three unwholesome. The unwholesome are greed, hatred, and delusion. The wholesome are non-greed, non-hatred, and non-delusion. If you create unwholesome causes, you get unwholesome results, which is suffering. If you create wholesome causes, you get wholesome results. But if you realize the truth and let go of all causes, you’re free from both good and bad, and ultimately, free from suffering.
The true essence of dhamma is concise. However, it contains a vast amount of practice. When we hear these teachings, for example, Venerable Assaji’s teaching, we, at most, might just remember them. But Venerable Sāriputta and Venerable Mahā Moggallāna understood immediately: whatever arises from a cause will cease when the cause ceases. They realized that nothing is permanent; everything is conditioned.
When they came to practice with the Buddha, they realized the unconditioned—Nibbana. It’s beyond all causes, without any conditions or fabrications. This is called ‘asaṅkhata dhamma.’
Since we haven’t reached that point yet, let’s first acknowledge that the goal of our practice is to transcend dukkha (suffering). Secondly, to be free from dukkha, we must extinguish its cause. How can we extinguish this cause? We must thoroughly understand dukkha. When we understand dukkha clearly, samudaya (cause of suffering) is automatically let go of.
When we understand dukkha clearly, what do we know? Firstly, we know the existence of rūpa (form) and nāma (mental component) that come together to form our sense of self.
Secondly, we further understand that these rūpa and nāma that make up our sense of self are impermanent, dukkha, and anattā (non-self). If we can truly realize this, we will be free from dukkha. We will be free from clinging to these rūpa and nāma.
If we are free from clinging to rūpa and nāma, we’ve essentially transcended the world, as the world is fundamentally composed of rūpa and nāma.
When we see the truth that this rūpa is dukkha, our mind ceases to cling to it. Then, when the mind sees the truth that all nāma components, including the mind itself, are dukkha, it lets go and doesn’t cling to them anymore. If we haven’t seen dukkha, we won’t let go. Therefore, seeing dukkha is the essential aspect of our practice.
Initially, seeing the dukkha in our own body and mind is the best. Of course, we can observe others, but it’s more difficult and we’re more likely to get lost because our minds wander outward.
Right concentration: the stability of the mind
The first step is to know; to feel our body and mind. The second step is to see the tilakkhaṇa (three characteristics) of the body and mind.
To see the tilakkhaṇa of the body and mind, we need two important tools: sati (mindfulness) and sammā samādhi (right concentration). Sati allows us to be aware of the existence of the body and mind and to see how they change. Sammā samādhi is the stability of the mind (being rooted in awareness). Without sammā samādhi, paññā (wisdom) won’t arise. There is worldly wisdom, but the wisdom of the Dhamma depends on sammā samādhi. Sammā samādhi is the proximate cause of paññā. The Buddha taught this.
But speaking of right samādhi, it’s a very unfortunate aspect. Some people say there’s no need to learn it because samādhi arises naturally with every mind. They forget that there are different kinds of samādhi, miccā (wrong) samādhi and sammā (right) samādhi.
Sammā samādhi can be divided into two: samādhi where the mind is calm and focused on a single object, and samādhi where the mind is firmly rooted in awareness, seeing tilakkhaṇa (the three characteristics) of all forms and formless phenomena.
There are many types of samādhi, so why not study it? Or if you do study samādhi, you study it incorrectly. If you study samādhi, you sit and meditate, drifting in and out, or you become tense. That’s studying samādhi incorrectly.
To study samādhi correctly, you must understand the study that will lead us to correct samādhi, called citta-sikkhā. When you stop studying your own mind, you won’t get correct samādhi.
Have you ever heard of tri-sikkhā (threefold training)? Tri-sikkhā is what we Buddhists must study if we want to transcend samsara (cycle of rebirth).
Sīla-sikkhā : How do we cultivate the higher morality?
Citta-sikkhā : How do we cultivate the higher mind?
Paññā-sikkhā : How do we cultivate the higher wisdom?
To cultivate sīla-sikkhā, begin by diligently observing the precepts and diligently abstaining from the five evil actions. Then, be mindful and aware of your own mind frequently. Automatic morality will arise. As soon as defilements arise, they are recognized immediately, and the precepts won’t be violated. Automatic morality will arise.
To cultivate citta-sikkhā, study your own mind. Practice any meditation that you’re good at, but don’t do it for the sake of tranquility. Practice a meditation and be aware of your mind. When your mind wanders, bring it back to focus on a single object.
Use the meditation object that pleases the mind, bring attention to it without forcing. If you force it, it won’t be peaceful. For example, you can meditate on your breath. As you breathe in and out, be aware of the breath at the tip of your nose. The breath goes in, the breath goes out. Know this in a relaxed manner. Your mind will become peaceful and focused at the tip of your nose, not wandering elsewhere. You will gain a peaceful kind of samādhi. The benefit of this is that it strengthens the mind.
Now, if you want to develop samādhi that is firmly rooted for the cultivation of wisdom, how do you do it? You practice meditation as before, but don’t focus on the breath at the tip of your nose. Instead, pay attention to your own mind.
You know the breath at the tip of your nose, and if your mind wanders to the breath, be mindful and aware. In the moment you realize that your mind has wandered to the tip of your nose, to the breath, your mind will instantly become awakened. It will become rooted in awareness automatically because you are aware of your mind.
Or you can breathe in and out with the word “Buddho.”
As you breathe, know the breath. When your mind wanders to think about other things, be aware that your mind has wandered to think about other things. See? The secret is being aware of your own mind.
That’s why it’s called citta-sikkhā (training in higher mind). One part is training the mind to be calm, and the other part is training the mind to be rooted in awareness. The study of citta-sikkhā will give us these things.
When our minds become rooted in awareness, the cultivation of wisdom becomes possible. Once the mind is rooted in awareness, it withdraws from the objects it knows and becomes a mere knower, a seer. The old forest monks that I studied under would often speak of the ‘knower mind.’ Some people would laugh and say that all minds are knowing by nature, since it’s the nature of the mind to know objects. But this was a specific term they used.
The ‘knower mind’ is the opposite of the ‘lost (deluded) mind.’ It is the joyful, awakened, knowing mind. In the past, when I went to see the teachers, all we talked about was the knower mind. This knower mind relies on mindfulness and samādhi – the mind that’s rooted in awareness.
When we have right samādhi, the mind that’s rooted in awareness, if sati (mindfulness) recognizes the body sitting, wisdom will arise immediately. For instance, when you all listen to me teach, you develop samādhi, because I don’t just recite memorized teachings. I speak the Dhamma that arises spontaneously. So, when you listen, samādhi arises automatically. When your mind has samādhi like this, try to be mindful of your body. You’ll see that the body and the mind are different. See? The body is the object of knowing, and the mind is the knower. The known is referred to as the object. There are the knower and the known.
Originally, our mind and its object were intertwined. But when our mind attains sammā samādhi, rooted in awareness, the mind and its object separate. The body sitting is seen, and the mind is that one that sees it. The body breathing is seen, and the mind is the one that sees it. The body moving is seen, and the mind is the one that sees it. They separate. And then, if paññā (wisdom) arises, you’ll see that the breathing body, the standing, walking, sitting, and lying body, the moving and still body, is simply an object of knowing and seeing. It’s not us, it’s not ours. It’s merely something the mind knows. This is the beginning of Vipassanā insight. You see the tilakkhaṇa (three characteristics) – you see non-self.
If you simply see that the body is one thing and the mind is another, that’s a basic level of insight. But it’s not insight of Vipassanā level. However, when true wisdom arises, it penetrates deeper. You’ll see that this body is an object of knowing and seeing, not you, not yours. This is Vipassanā. If your mind can do Vipassanā, the path becomes short. It’s no longer long or difficult.
The most difficult part for practitioners is developing the mind that’s rooted in awareness. It’s the hardest because our minds are never truly rooted. They’re always wandering and lost.
So we must practice. We must practice some form of meditation. If one day your mind is weak and scattered, let it rest on the meditation object. Let it relax. But when your mind is strong, don’t just let it rest. Observe the mind. When your mind is experiencing rapture, know that it’s experiencing rapture. When your mind is experiencing joy, know that it’s experiencing joy. When it’s peaceful, know that it’s peaceful. When it thinks other things or becomes restless, know that it’s restless. When you see phenomena correctly and truthfully, then the knower mind will arise.
The action is only to know—
not to eliminate, not to focus, not to forget
This morning, I shared with my team and the former monks who came to report their homework (practice) that I had experienced the knower mind since I was 10 years old. I was practicing mindfulness of breathing, following the teachings of Luang Por Lee, inhaling, reciting ‘Bud’ and exhaling, reciting ‘Dho’, counting one, inhaling, reciting ‘Bud’ and exhaling, reciting ‘Dho’, counting two. As I practiced, my mind became calm, bright, and relaxed. Sometimes, my mind even went out to see external things.
When I was about 10, our house was in a row of shophouses. I used to play with the neighborhood kids, who were about the same size. We’d play with marbles. While we were playing, I looked over and saw that around the 4th or 5th shophouse next to our house were on fire. That house was a car repair shop, which was just big enough for one car. I didn’t know how the fire started. The people working in the shop ran out, some of them grabbing fire extinguishers, trying to put out the fire.
When I saw the fire, I was startled. In my panic, I still instinctively grabbed my marble and then I started to run. With the first step, I was in panic. With the second step, I was still in panic. But by the third step, my mind snapped back as mindfulness arose. Instead of focusing on the fire, I realized that my mind was filled with fear. As soon as I recognized this feeling of fear, it vanished, because fear is a form of anger. My mindfulness arose and recognized it, and the anger immediately subsided. What followed was a state of the mind rooted in awareness (the knower mind).
At that time, I was still young. I thought ‘Hey, my mind felt strange. Why was my mind different today?’ It wasn’t scared. Then, I walked calmly to tell the adults, and then I just stood there, watching other people panicking, running around, trying to put out the fire. My mind was just an observer, not scared at all.
If only there had been a teacher at that time, I could have been free from suffering a long time ago. But since there was no teacher, I didn’t know how important this was. It happened, and then it passed. And then it happened again and again, but I didn’t know how to use it. I didn’t understand the principles of Vipassanā meditation or how to cultivate paññā-sikkhā, the higher wisdom.
I had a rooted mind, strong and steady. I didn’t know that I needed to be mindful of physical and mental phenomena. Once my mind was rooted, it remained that way. I maintained it like that. That’s why my knower mind is so strong, because it has been cultivated for so long.
Venerable Luang Pu Sim didn’t know my name, so he gave me a nickname. When he saw me, he called me ‘the knower’. People thought I could predict the lottery. But I wasn’t predicting the lottery. I was aware of myself. My mind was aware of the body and mind. And back then, I was so naive. I thought everyone else’s mind was like that too.
Later, after a while of meditation, I gradually noticed the minds of other people. I realized that most people in the world are not aware of themselves. Most people are deluded. Very few people are truly mindful. One must practice diligently to become mindful.
Luang Por Phut once told me to teach, to spread the teachings, because no one was teaching about the mind back then. He told me to teach, otherwise people who should be beneficial wouldn’t benefit. That’s why I started teaching. It wasn’t because I was arrogant or wanted to teach. Practitioners don’t just go out and teach unless their teachers instruct them.
The first thing I taught is to not be lost and not to be focused. At first, many people laughed. ‘What kind of meditation practice involves not being lost or focused?’ they asked. ‘Why don’t we just focus on our breath or chant “Buddho“? Why don’t we do it that way? What a strange meditation practice!’
This is because I’ve seen people practice meditation and fail because they meditate by focusing and become so stressed. Some are so stressed that they’ve gone crazy. Many meditators have gone insane from focusing too much.
Practitioners often make the mistake of focusing. But for those who don’t practice, the main problem is absence of mind. They’re lost all day long. The middle way is neither extreme. Being lost is like indulging in sensual pleasures (kamasukhallikanuyogo), while focusing is like self-torture (attakilamathanuyogo).
The middle way is awareness or knowing. The middle way involves the word “know.” In the Four Foundations of Mindfulness, it says,
“Monks, sit, set your body upright, and be aware in the present moment.
When your out-breath is long, know that your out-breath is long. When your in-breath is long, know that your in-breath is long.
When your out-breath is short, know that your out-breath is short. When your in-breath is short, know that your in-breath is short.
When your breath disappears, know that your breath disappears.”
“Monks, when standing, know clearly that you are standing. When walking, know clearly that you are walking. When sitting or lying down, know clearly that you are sitting or lying down.”
See, the key word is “know.”
“Monks, when feeling happy, know that you are feeling happy. When feeling unhappy, know that you are feeling unhappy. When feeling neither happy nor unhappy, know that you are feeling neither happy nor unhappy.” Again, the key is “know.”
“Monks, when the mind is filled with craving, know that it is filled with craving. When the mind is free from craving, know that it is free from craving.” See, the key word is “know.”
“Monks, when the mind is filled with anger, know that it is filled with anger. When the mind is free from anger, know that it is free from anger.”
“Monks, when the mind is filled with delusion, know that it is filled with delusion. When the mind is free from delusion, know that it is free from delusion.”
“Monks, when the mind is restless, know that it is restless. When the mind is lethargic, know that it is lethargic.”
The next 8 items in the Foundation of Mindfulness regarding the mind are about the mental states of jhana practitioners. We only need to focus on the first four pairs. Notice that the only verb used is ‘know.’ There’s no mention of discarding, focusing, or forgetting.
“Monks, when you breathe out, forget it. When you breathe in, forget it.” He did not teach like this.
“Monk, when you breathe out, immensely focus on it. When you breathe in, immensely focus on it.” He did not teach like this.
This is what prevents people from making progress and attaining liberation. Their samādhi isn’t right; it’s actually miccā (wrong) samādhi.
So, it’s a make or break factor. The real challenge is waking up those who are asleep. They’ve been asleep for countless lifetimes. It’s not easy to wake someone up. Therefore, the door is open for us because we know how to wake ourselves up. That is to meditate on a meditation object and be aware of our mind. Be aware of phenomena arising in our own mind. Be aware of the actions of our own mind. Keep doing this, and your mind will become rooted in awareness. This is called citta-sikkhā (training the higher mind).
After training our mind, now we need to train for insight. Once your mind is right, developing wisdom will be quick and easy. But if your mind isn’t right, no amount of wisdom practice will help. When your mind is right, that is, rooted in awareness and equanimous, when mindfulness arises and recognizes a non-form phenomenon, its tilakkhaṇa (three characteristics) is seen. When mindfulness recognizes the mind, its tilakkhaṇa (three characteristics) is seen. It won’t take long. The Buddha’s dhamma yields quick effect. So, be patient and learn to understand your own mind.
When someone cuts you off while you’re driving, don’t just focus on that person. Look at your own mind and see that it’s being angry.
When you see a beautiful woman, don’t just stare. There’s a beauty pageant going on in Thailand right now. Don’t just keep watching. When your mind perceives a beautiful woman and it likes it, be aware that the mind likes it.
Some people might dislike beautiful girls, thinking ‘like a gibbon, not pretty at all, can’t be compared to me.’ Jealousy arises, be aware. As a practitioner, you should be aware of these feelings. Keep being aware of our own minds. If you can do this, the Dhamma will no longer be difficult.
You might wonder why I often tell you to go see Moo Deng (the pygmy hippo). There’s a reason. During the COVID-19 pandemic, after the zoo reopened, Phra Ajahn and I went to visit the zoo and found the animals to be quite pitiful. They were starving. Now Moo Deng is a lucky charm. Nobody has yet made a lucky doll of beckoning Moo Deng. Her arms might be too short to really wave and attract a lot of people.
Now, Moo Deng is a lucky charm, bringing in income for the zoo. Other animals benefit as well. They have a better quality of life. I tell you to go see Moo Deng because of this.
I haven’t gone to see her yet. I’m afraid of the long queue. I might faint before seeing Moo Deng. My heart feels sorry for the animals. Animals are in difficult. They have no choice. They’re confined to a limited space. If they’re in the wild, people will kill them. In the zoo, they’re safe, but sometimes they lack food. It’s pitiful. They can’t go find food. It’s pitiful.
And Thai people don’t like going to places that provide knowledge, such as zoos. So they don’t like it. Thus, these places are very unfortunate. Another example is museums. People should visit these places, so they can earn money.
Sometimes, when I went to give sermons in foreign countries, I visited their museums. I had to queue, just like when people queue to see Moo Deng.
Why do people like to see Moo Deng? Because they don’t have to think. People don’t like places that require a lot of thinking. Thai people are afraid of using their brains. They only use their brains to think about the lottery. They wonder which number will come out next.
So, anything that gives you knowledge, do it. Do it sometimes. And it benefits us both directly and indirectly.
That’s all. Don’t forget about Moo Deng. Go see her.
Wat Suan Santidham
19 October 2024